


Angels and Deacons

by mothmanaintshit, RocketsRedGlare



Series: Angels and Deacons [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Roller Coaster, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5834269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothmanaintshit/pseuds/mothmanaintshit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocketsRedGlare/pseuds/RocketsRedGlare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Callie's story of how she became the Savior of the Commonwealth, agent of the Railroad, General of the Minutemen, protector of the people! ...And how she fell in love with a certain Railroad agent who likes it when he catches you looking at his ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels and Deacons

“Deacon,” Desdemona looked up from the map laid out in front of herself, Carrington and PAM stood on either side of the Railroad leader, as Deacon strolled into HQ, “where have you been?” 

Deacon walked up to the three, hands shoved in his pockets, giving them a one-shoulder shrug, “Gathering some intel—”

“PAM informed me that you had already given her the intel she needed. So, I’ll repeat again,” Desdemona narrowed her eyes, picking up an unlit cigarette from on top of her cigarette box, “Where  _were_  you?”

It was barely a month since Switchboard was hit and Desdemona had been finally relaxing enough to let him and Glory handle recon missions without a constant check-in. But seeing Desdemona like this made Deacon’s ‘ _Spidey Senses_ ’ tingle, and as much as he rather not throw himself into more than he could take, he didn’t exactly  _like_  what he was feeling.

His eyes trailed over both Desdemona and Carrington, watching their stiff body language and growing agitation at Deacon’s continued silence.

Desdemona couldn’t light her cigarette, something he’d seen her do even in the most stressful of situations, her lips were barely keeping the cigarette steady. Carrington, even at his most relaxed state, was always stiff. It was hard for Deacon to get a read on Carrington when he was his usual self but even Carrington let his nervousness seep through the cracks of his mask with the shifts of his feet and grip on his lab coat. His lip was bitten up badly, and Deacon was sure if Carrington hadn’t been crossing his arms, he would be seeing bitten up finger nails as well. And PAM… she’s unreasonably silent, she would be at least rattling off some form of numbers, even offering him her robotic

“I was hanging out in Goodneighbor.” He decided to be cooperative, at least for now. “Amari wanted to know which of our guys didn’t make it out of Switchboard. I gave her some names, a couple MIA’s too. Jus’ in case she hears something.” 

“Good.” Desdemona finally lit her cigarette and leaned her head back, taking a long – and much needed from what Deacon would see – drag. Deacon watched her quietly, crossing his ankles as he waited for  _something_. Carrington was just itching to say something, and the way him and Desdemona kept sharing angry glances could only tell him so much: which was barely anything. Angry glances were usual for them, it was the silence he had to worry about. 

Well, they’d either give him the info now or until it was too late; and with how The Railroad was already on borrowed time, it would have to be now – whether the two liked it or not.

“Deacon,” Desdemona breathed out the smoke, her eyes meeting his behind the sunglasses, “there’s been movement near Vault 111—”

Deacon was standing straight now, eyes wide. There was only one man who could have possibly been hanging around Vault 111, and that man owed Deacon— Hell, the  _entire_  Railroad some answers.

“—we don’t know who it is, but we need to find out. Rumor is it was a couple Gen Two synths, some Gen One’s. Also reports of a Mr. Handy roaming around Sanctuary, it doesn’t seem hostile though. We won’t know for certain of the intel until you take a look.” 

“ _Just_  Synth’s?” Deacon’s voice was dangerously low, and even PAM turned her head towards his direction. Deacon rarely let show how Switchboard had fucked him up more than usual. The Institute was already on his hitlist, even before joining the Railroad. Since, well... the list kept growing and he kept on writing those names, but The Institute was on the top of that list. He’d kill everyone in that damn place.

Carrington turned to Desdemona and frowned, “He isn’t ready for this—”

“Like  _Hell_  I am.” Deacon stepped towards the round platform, “If Kellogg is there—”

“We don’t know if he’s there.” Desdemona spoke with an even voice, glaring at Carrington. “We’ve spoken about this, Carrington. Glory  _isn’t_  stealthy, and if it _is_ Kellogg…”

 She turned to Deacon, pointing her lit cigarette at him, “You do not cause a scene, you come back to HQ and we figure out exactly what’s going on.”

“Desdemona—”

Desdemona looked back at Carrington with tired eyes, cutting him off, “I’m not risking our last  _Heavy_.”

His lips thinned but he no longer argued, just offered a small nod, “Understood.”

“Tommy could still be alive.” Deacon cut in, voice a little too hopeful for his liking. Tommy Whispers was more than likely dead, they all knew it even if they couldn’t scratch his name out on the chalkboard.

“There isn’t any proof that he isn’t.” That statement was the most truth he’s spoken in months. It made his chest tighten and stomach flip, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He preferred lies, at least they tasted like bliss.

“Deacon.” Desdemona sighed, flicking some ash off her cigarette.

Deacon bit his cheek and crossed his arms, fingers twitching against his biceps.  _Now isn’t the time, Dee._

“I’m heading out—”

“No. Rest for the night,” Desdemona cut him off, motioning towards the back tunnel where mattresses were laid out across the floor, “you can leave in the morning.”

“Is that an order, Dez?” He voice shouldn’t be sharp, and he really shouldn’t be testing her either. But if Kellogg is at Vault 111 at this moment and  _he misses him_ —

Deacon’s hands tightened around his bicep. He won’t let another Switchboard happen again. Kellogg needed to be handled, whether it be by himself or some other unknown force; and if it was him, Deacon wouldn’t miss him. Not by a long shot.

“Set up a camp near the vault,” Desdemona ran a hand through her hair, pulling the cigarette out from her lips with the other, “not too close, and not too far. If you see Kellogg: Do not confront him, Deacon… I mean it.” 

“I get it, Dez—”

“I don’t think you do.” Carrington cut him off, shaking his head. “You and Glory are our only agents—”

Deacon growled, “Tommy could  _still be alive_ —”

“We are not arguing about this now.” Desdemona hissed, shoving her cigarette onto the ashtray and burning it out. “Deacon, get whatever you need and go. Carrington—”

“At least give me the courtesy of leaving before I listen to mommy and daddy fight.” Deacon moved towards Tinker Tom’s workstation, looking for a couple _Stealthboy’s_. It was all he needed anyways.

“We’ll speak about this later.” Deacon heard Carrington sigh from behind him. Deacon was out of HQ before Desdemona even noticed.


End file.
